


With Thanks, Jason Todd

by cadkitten



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Blood, Cumshot, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Oral Sex, Wounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-07
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-09-07 01:45:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8778196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadkitten/pseuds/cadkitten
Summary: Jason's made a mistake, he's pissed off the wrong people and now his life in jeopardy. He never thought he'd come crawling back for help, never thought he'd find himself bleeding out on Dick's doorstep at five in the morning, barely conscious, barely clinging to life. But here he is. There was a time in his life that he stood alone, a time where he was his own rock, but tonight, he needs someone else.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kate1zena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kate1zena/gifts).



> Thank you for everything you've done, for being my beta, my sounding board, and making me a better writer throughout this year. Here's to another fruitful year between us and may our friendship continue to grow.  
> Beta Readers: sakuraame  
> Song[s]: "Wrong Side of Heaven" by Five Finger Death Punch

Jason's heart raced, skittered in his chest with a frizzle of adrenaline that he hadn't felt in a _long_ time. His breath clogged up in his throat in a way that _threatened_ the possibility of his own demise. The gunshot wound was only very slightly to the left of his spine, was close enough that he had once again tasted _terror_ as he'd felt it impact. His forearms were covered in defensive wounds and he was fairly certain his wrist was sprained if not sporting a hairline fracture from the fall he'd taken at the impact of the bullet.

It had been an expert shot, one he could only place to a _very_ particular person in the business and if it had been _him_ then the question remained of why he'd intentionally _missed_. Deadshot had earned his name for a reason, so whatever this was - whatever it had been that he'd interrupted tonight - Deadshot had given him a lifeline in the intentional miss. It was _far_ more than a warning, enough that it would have taken down anyone weaker than him, would have left them sprawled out some two stories down from their perch, mostly dead and waiting for the mercy of the rest of their death. For Jason it had been enough to make him get the hell out of there, had been enough to set off _flight_ when he hadn't been sure he had it in him to do such a thing any longer.

His shoulder impacted the wall of the closest family member's residence he'd been able to get to. His hand pulled away from the exit wound of the bullet - something else he was more than thankful for - and he found the dark slick of enough blood he knew he was _past_ concern and well into the tentative shadows of time that swelled between life and death. Gritting his teeth, he told himself it had simply been _bad luck_ that had separated his comm from his ear, had left it crushed beneath the impact of his body, had been _worse_ luck that his backup had been used the night before and he hadn't had a chance to replace it yet. For the first time in his life he was starting to understand why both Dick and Tim worked with burner phones in their utility belts. Assuming he managed to live through this, there was definitely more than one thing that he'd have to reconsider about how he operated.

He took in a hitching breath, forced the air down into his lungs no matter how much his body fought it, and shoved away from the wall. His steps staggered now, stumbled as his vision swam, as he felt the roll of nausea and the _haunting_ ghost of another time, another _life_ falling into sync with him.

He slammed one blood-coated hand against the wall of buzzers, stood there as voices came back to him all at once, nearly pitched forward when someone simply buzzed him in without _care_. Five lurching steps and he pitched into the elevator, sagging against the railing, his shaking hand leaving a smudge on the eighth floor button. The world pitched and heaved worse than the way it had in the belly of an ocean liner he'd once found necessity to hole up in. 

The distant sound of the elevator dinging informed him he was where he needed to be, informed his legs to stumble him out of the once-pristine box and out into the hallway. The doors swam in his vision, but he counted it out, found himself at Dick's door and for the first time in years, he _prayed_. The words came forth, only pieces making it past his lips, whispered hints at what he was _begging_. "Por favor, déjalo... sálvame... más que una llorona." His hand slapped against the door, the weakest of efforts of his fist making what could only barely be enough noise to raise someone from within.

The cough that came was _wet_ and he swallowed it back, keeping the prayer for that particular issue _silent_. He slumped against the doorframe, managed a desperate sounding, "Dick?!" the mantra of his prayers playing again and again, the word tattooing themselves upon the inside of his skull.

The door was yanked open and even as he pitched inward, Dick's arms wrapped around him, dragged him into the apartment under a strength that shouldn't have been possible for his frame, but somehow _was_. Somewhere distantly, he could hear Dick's voice, could hear the fade of it in and out as he was hauled up a short flight of stairs and into a small room. The little loft came in and out of focus, the faint image of where Dick was leading him wavering before his wet cough came with a dribble of blood, before his world began to become _static_ , before he heard the _fear_ in Dick's voice as he clearly made a call, issuing barked instructions as Jason felt the cold press of the medical table against his back. 

Even as Dick began to work, began to rip his armor from him with an efficiency that spoke volumes about how much attention to detail Dick usually paid, Jason could focus only on one thing. He forced his eyes to remain open, forced his mind to focus on nothing other than watching Dick's face, watching the way his lips moved, the way his brow creased as he rushed about, starting to work with the distant voice that sounded rather like _Alfred_ directing him what to do.

The mask on his face wasn't a surprise when Dick placed it there, nor was the rush of oxygen and then the heavy _numbness_ that came right behind it. Their eyes met for an instant before his eyelids fluttered closed and the blackness of their own special brand of anesthesia kicked in.

\---

When Jason came to, he _ached_ , but it wasn't a searing sort of pain like he'd expected it to be. His mouth was like cotton and his stomach felt suspiciously _empty_ and his eyelids heavy in a way that told him the heavy sedation was wearing off. It wasn't just the afterburn of their Bat-brand anesthesia, but more the sort from when he'd been laid up in Wayne manor, barely mobile for weeks on end. 

He turned his head, studied the IV bag until it came into focus, showing him it was simply fluids. The empty bag behind it bore their unique markings that implied both pain killers, sedatives, and a low-grade antibiotic. Giving it a minute, he felt his way through the extent of his body, _felt_ the way he could move all of his fingers and toes, felt the dull ache of the bullet wound and the itch of healing wounds on his forearms. 

Very gingerly, he maneuvered himself until he was able to sit up and swing his legs over the edge of the bed. Finally able to see more than _nothing_ in the dull light coming in from the hallway, he realized he was in _Dick's_ bedroom. Not the spare bedroom, but _Dick's_ own room. One glance at the other side of the bed presented a rumpled area, the implication that Dick wouldn't leave his side the entire time leaving him with the _open_ feeling of gratefulness in his chest.

Swallowing against the dryness of his mouth, he listened to the quiet sounds of the house around him. No tapping of fingers on keys, no quietly playing television or radio, and definitely nothing to imply _Dick_ was here at the moment. He glanced around the room, saw his phone sitting on the nightstand, plugged in and dutifully within his grasp. Such consideration, as if they knew he'd need a way to get ahold of someone if he woke when they weren't there, which also meant enough time had passed that Dick - or someone - had gone to his place and picked up _at the very least_ his phone. 

Picking it up, he entered his passcode and switched to the application Tim had written them all that connected to the comms and patched himself in, setting it to speaker phone and lowering the volume. 

The line crackled and he heard the familiar grunt of breath that told him Damian had just taken down someone with his comm-line open. Years of dealing with Damian's coldness, with the bitter way he treated everyone because he felt like he _had_ to keep them at arm's length had taught Jason the reasons for Damian doing things like this. He'd learned simply from _listening_ that this was Damian's way of policing himself, of proving he was only doing his job and nothing more time and again. He was sure it had been necessity more than anything when he'd first started doing it all those years ago, but now, with _this_ version of Damian - a young man who had _found himself_ somewhere in the midst of his anger, who had come out the other side quiet but _kind_ \- he knew it was only habit. 

He listened to the comm crackle back to closed and he tapped the pound key to set himself to an open line, took in a breath, and winced as his voice grated against his throat when he spoke. "Someone want to tell me if I'm allowed to move around yet?"

There was silence for a moment and then Damian's voice, "He lives." A moment and then a chorus of both Damian and Dick's voices, offering up, " _Again_."

Jason snorted, making a face at how _that_ felt against his dry throat. 

The line crackled again and he heard the thunk of a grapple being fired. "I'm heading in, think you've got it, Robin?"

"Yes." There was a click and Jason knew Damian had turned his comm back off, could still hear Dick breathing, hear the rush of wind as he took flight between buildings. 

"I'd prefer you didn't until I'm there, Hood. Think you can hang on for ten or so?"

"I'll be sitting here." His thumb hovered over the pound key and then he pushed it, disconnecting a moment later and ensuring he shut the application down completely before pushing his phone back onto the dresser and gazing vacantly across the room.

\----

He sensed Dick's arrival before he saw him, flicked his eyes to the door to watch him enter the room, all lean muscle and tight suit, just the way Jason pictured him when his eyes were closed. Dick's lips quirked upwards and Jason felt his own responding as Dick made his way across the room and knelt at his feet, reaching toward the edge of his shirt. He paused there, gaze flicking up to Jason's, waiting on permission that Jason didn't hesitate to grant with a single nod of his head.

Dick pulled up Jason's shirt, gingerly peeled back the bandage in the front enough to see the wound before taping it back down. He shifted up onto the bed and repeated the process with the entry wound, his gloved palm warm against Jason's back. "Does it hurt?"

"Nominal at the moment."

Dick slid off the bed again, removing his gloves and setting them aside on the dresser. His fingers made quick work of unhooking Jason from the IV line, gently removing the IV itself, a fresh piece of gauze over the puncture, held there until he fished the medical tape from the drawer, gave it one good round around Jason's hand to hold it in place. The needle went into the small sharps container in the drawer and Dick bumped it closed with his hip, shifting to hold out his arm, giving Jason a good brace to help him stand up with.

Jason tugged himself up from the bed, only stumbled a little bit before his legs took in the idea that he was supposed to be standing. He looped his arm around Dick's shoulders and allowed him to maneuver him into the attached bathroom. He went about his business, completely undisturbed by Dick's presence, _knowing_ what it had meant for him to be in Dick's home for the duration of however long he'd been out. 

Dick cut off sheets of plastic wrap and tape, carefully creating covers for the bandages so Jason could shower, and Jason found himself watching Dick's hands as he worked, found himself more than a little pleased to have him tending to him in his Nightwing outfit more than anything. Something about it just made Jason feel _special_ , as if he could find all the reasons he mattered stowed away in that particular gesture.

He swallowed again and murmured, "Thirsty."

Dick glanced at him and then disappeared out of the room. There was clinking in the kitchen and then the sound of the ice maker spitting out ground up ice. When Dick returned, he had a novelty Coca Cola glass filled to the brim with ice chips. He smiled as he took it from him, breathed out a word of thanks and tapped a few out onto his tongue and gingerly maneuvered himself back into a standing position. 

Dick was quick to get the shower started and to help Jason finish disrobing, his touch delicate and only in the most necessary of places. There was such consideration in the whole ordeal, something that left Jason with a warm feeling deep in his gut. Dick placed the plastic wrap around the gauze on Jason's wounds and Jason managed to get himself into the shower with minimal help, his muscles starting to realize what they were supposed to be doing again.

Once he was in with the curtain closed, he cleared his throat. "How long was I out?"

"Three days. You came to a few times the first day, but every single time you could barely speak through the pain, so I did what I thought was best." Jason could hear Dick lean against the counter, the slight creak of the wooden cabinets telling him as much. "I thought it best to keep you sedated until the worst was past."

Jason moved around gingerly, soaping himself up as best he could. "Probably best if it was that bad." He shifted to rinse another part of his body, watched the suds wash down the drain, considered all that Dick had done for him, what he'd put upon him by showing up at his place in the shape he'd been in. "I wouldn't have inconvenienced you, but I-"

" _Jay_." His name left Dick's mouth as a plea, a whisper of something desperate in his voice. "You're never an _inconvenience_."

Jason opened the shampoo bottle, squirting some onto his palm and depositing the bottle back on the shelf before working it into a later in his hair. "Three days and I'm passed out in your bed the entire time or waking up in some form of horrid pain... yeah, it's an _inconvenience_ , Dick." He tipped his head back and washed out his hair before turning off the water, slicking the water from his hair and reaching to open the shower curtain.

Dick stood there, a horribly pained look on his face when Jason opened it. He handed over a towel and Jason let himself meet Dick's gaze, let himself get caught up in the depths of such expressive eyes. "Don't ever make me agree to saying you're anything like that."

Jason sighed, scrubbing the towel over his hair and face and then delicately starting to dry everything else. Dick helped him out of the shower and onto the bath mat, plucked the towel from him and knelt to help him dry his legs, handing it back when he was done.

A shudder went through Jason's body at the image of Dick knelt in front of him for the second time in such a short period of time. Heat lanced through him and the familiar tingle that foretold his arousal burned in his thighs. He tucked the towel around his waist, managed to shuffle his way past Dick without his help, heading for the bedroom again. "Spare clothing perhaps?"

A bag plopped onto the bed in front of him and he smiled down at it, recognizing it as his get-out bag. Opening it, he fished out his deodorant and applied it, moving to get out the pants and shirt from inside, feeling Dick's fingers working to remove the plastic wrap from his bandages, fingers gently testing the gauze to make sure it was dry. He started to pull the shirt on, Dick helping him get it over his head. Turning, he settled on the bed, towel in a pile on his lap, hiding away what was definitely becoming a _problem_ as Dick knelt in front of him again, this time helping him put his feet into the pant legs. 

Dick looked up at him, quirked a knowing little smile and settled back on his heels, one arm resting over his own knee. "Once was an idea. Twice was coincidence. But three times tells me there's more to it than that... it's _me_ , isn't it?"

Vivid memories of the past skated through Jason's mind: a muscle cramp that wouldn't let up and Dick's hands on his calves, a knife wound that was just enough to warrant stitches and Dick on his knees in front of Jason, Jason's body betraying him for a second time. His arousal surged at the memories, at what he'd _thought_ each of those times. Coincidence, it was not.

Jason swallowed against the dryness of his throat, looking away, a certain heat creeping up his neck. "Ignore me." He'd known for a very long time that this was how he'd have to play it if Dick ever noticed, that he'd have to admit without admitting, have to play it all down as if it were _nothing_ when it was anything but. There was something about it being _Dick_ , about the fact that he should have seen him as _family_ when he honestly didn't. But he knew it was wrong, regardless; knew there was little in the world that could force it to be anything else. 

Dick's hands were warm on his bare thighs, reinforced that his pants weren't fully _on_ yet, and Jason fought down the shiver that wanted free because of it. "Just _tell_ me. Yes or no."

Jason's cock _throbbed_ at that, harder than he could recall it being in at least several months, hard enough he was having a difficult time not reaching under the towel and helping himself. The _idea_ sent a thrill through him and he knew he _had_ to cut himself off somewhere, but he just couldn't bring himself to _do_ it. "Yes." The word was out before he could think to police it, spilled from his lips with a conviction that there was no way he could _take back_.

Dick's fingertips worked at the muscles of Jason's thighs, kneaded over the flesh, his movements practiced and yet _not_. Jason watched the decisions Dick was making play out across his features, _knew_ what was coming before Dick settled forward on his knees, before his hands came up to grasp the towel and _paused_ there.

Jason's heart beat out a frantic sort of staccato in his chest and he shivered _hard_ when Dick's voice met his ears.

"Let me make you feel _good_ , Jay."

Jason let go of the towel, watched Dick's face as he dragged it away, as he tossed it to the floor and placed his hands back on Jason's thighs, leaning in lapping his tongue over the head a few times before sucking the tip into his mouth. 

Groaning, Jason reached down, pushed his hand into Dick's hair, held on as Dick bobbed over his cock, as he took more and more with each and every movement. His hands clenched and he fought the urge to rock up into Dick's mouth, fought to keep himself in _control_.

Dick pulled up off of him, swirled his tongue around the edge of Jason's foreskin before reaching to slide it back, tugging it down under the head so he could flick his tongue against the bundle of nerves hidden away there. Jason _whined_ , his hips canting as he fought to even _breathe_ , wondered how on earth Dick _knew_ this was what would get him off fastest. He felt his lips press against the underside of his cock, suction against those nerves, and his tongue working over the area until Jason was fighting down a _scream_ at how good it felt.

Shaking, Jason let go of Dick's hair, had to use it to steady himself on the bed, had to close his eyes and throw his head back because if he didn't, he wasn't sure he could hold of his orgasm any longer. His hands fisted in the bedspread and he _whined_ as his gut tightened even more.

Dick pulled away, slid down onto his cock, taking all of it at once and then slipped off again, mouth going right back to the sensitive underside to lick and kiss. 

Jason let out a cry, his hips jerking in surprise, his body rocking into it - three short thrusts of his hips - and then he was careening over the edge of his orgasm, unable to stave it off any longer. Tipping his head forward, he opened his eyes and _watched_ as his cum spurted out across Dick's cheek, across his own thighs and Dick's fingers. 

Dick's mouth slipped over the head of his cock, stole away the rest of his cum, swallowing it down as Jason stared at him, his fingers shaking as he reached out to ghost his hands over Dick's clean cheek, watched the way Dick's eyes sparkled as they stared at one another.

With a little pop, Dick slid up off of his cock, wiped his hand over his cheek to clean away the cum and sat back on his heels, just grinning up at Jason. "I've wanted to do that for a long time now... just wasn't sure _you_ wanted to."

Jason released a faint little huff of breath, felt the smile tugging at his lips before he was laughing, _relieved_ , more pleased than he'd been in a long, long time. "Wanted it for a while now."

Dick pulled himself up from the floor, leaned in and pressed his lips to Jason's, the kiss chaste in the wake of something that clearly _hadn't been_. "I'm going to clean up and then we're going to get you fed." He turned away, headed for the door only to pause in the doorway, his hand on the frame as he turned back toward Jason, a certain gleam in his eyes. "And when you're healed... you're _mine_."

For one precious moment, the world froze and Jason _clung to it_ , clutched the knowledge that Dick was _his_ now - at least in this way - as close as he dared, and he considered that _perhaps_ he owed Deadshot a thank you card, at the _very_ least.


End file.
